


Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth

by viceindustrious



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-19
Updated: 2011-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-20 13:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceindustrious/pseuds/viceindustrious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rotheram has high hopes for Coward, great plans and he will not let Henry lure this one into his circle of depravity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth

"Sir Thomas!" 

A merry voice bursts over the dull hum of the other guests and Rotheram looks up, smiling despite himself, to see Daniel Coward waving at him with a cream cake in one hand. He's beaming, a little breathless, picking his steps around the other guests with the haphazard and meandering flair of someone who's had a trifle too much to drink. There's something downright arresting about the flush off his cheeks and Rotheram doesn't notice the dark shadow prowling after him until he's boxed in with no way to make a graceful exit. 

"Sir Thomas," Coward repeats, holding out his free hand. "It's good to see you."

Rotheram shakes Coward's hand as Henry Blackwood draws up behind him. 

"Thomas," Blackwood nods, offering his own hand. 

Rotheram stares down at the thing, back up to Blackwood's face. Those sharp, insincere eyes. His lips press together in a harsh thin line. Henry shrugs and lets his arm fall back down to his side. 

"I was just telling Henry, he really should attend these meetings more often! It's funny he's so often away when you arrange them," says Coward. 

Blackwood raises a discrete eyebrow at the comment, a twitch of a smirk in the corner of his mouth directed entirely at Rotheram.

"It is  _funny_ ," says Blackwood and then slings his arms around Coward's shoulders in a convivial fashion. 

"Is there," Rotheram fights to keep his tone neutral. "Is there anything specific you wanted to say to me, Blackwood? I wouldn't want to keep you, I'm sure you're very busy."

Coward gives a little laugh, "Oh we can all make time to relax every now and then, can't we?" 

"Coward, this is-"

"He has a point," says Blackwood, cutting Rotheram off. "We should all make time to . . . " 

Blackwood pauses and Rotheram watches, with dawning horror, his hand slide up from Coward's shoulder to stroke the side of his neck. It's a small, subtle movement, but Henry is smiling at him viciously. " . . . relax. For the sake of your health, Thomas."

Rotheram's eyes fly from Blackwood's face to the disgustingly intimate way he's touching Coward. He barely has time to open his mouth, however, before Coward shrugs Blackwood's arm off and steps back. 

"Does anyone want a drink?" Coward asks, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

"Sounds delightful," says Blackwood, still staring down Rotheram.

Rotheram nods, not trusting himself to speak. 

"Ah, just a moment, Daniel," Blackwood says.

He breaks the stare he was locked into with Rotheram, has turned away first but Rotheram knows this is no victory on his part. Blackwood has a reptilian aptitude for intimidation and now he has switched that gaze to Coward.

There is something reluctant about the way Coward turns on his heel, more friction under his feet then necessary. The atmosphere has soured, suddenly and completely and Blackwood's cheerful tone is a shrill discord against whatever dark undercurrent is running beneath their conversation.

"You wanted something, Blackwood?" Rotheram says, trying to pull Blackwood's attention away, to do something to break the moment growing between Blackwood and Coward at least. It's unsavoury, and even if he can't put his finger on exactly why there's sweat prickling at his temples he knows it makes sense to want to keep those he's, he's  _invested_ in, as far away from Henry Blackwood as possible. 

Henry takes a half step closer to Coward. "Yes, Thomas, I did."

"You have," Blackwood purrs, and Coward flinches as Blackwood brings his hand up to cup his face. "A spot of cream, just, there."

He brushes his thumb lazily over the corner of Coward's mouth, a long sensual swipe. Coward doesn't seem to be breathing, frozen on the spot and Rotheram watches, sick to his stomach but unable to do a thing as Blackwood tugs at Coward's bottom lip, just a little. 

"Now you can go,” Blackwood says, stepping back.

Coward opens his mouth as if he's about to say something, but instead blushes a deep red and closes it again. 

"Right," he says, biting his lip. "I'll just. I'll be back in a moment."

If he'd seemed tipsy when he'd approached before, he certainly doesn't look any better now. 

"Do hurry back, Daniel," Blackwood murmurs as he walks away.

"How dare you come here," Rotheram hisses, biting back his ire with difficulty.

The last thing he wants to do is make a scene. People talk enough as it is. Blackwood, devil that he is, doesn't care at all for the eyes of society. He invites scandal, manages to charm his way out of trouble half the time and intimidates silence for the rest of it. He has stolen bright young things from Rotheram before now and brought them all to ruin.

Rotheram knows the kind of magic Blackwood practices. The kind of promises he makes. He has high hopes for Coward, great plans and he will not let Henry lure this one into his circle of depravity.

"What a sweet creature he is." Blackwood gives him a knowing, amused look. "But I'm sure you've noticed that."

"I won't stand for this sort of talk."

"What do you mean?" Blackwood asks.

Innocent, _offended_ , like butter wouldn't melt in that mouth of his. A mouth to which, Rotheram watches with rising blood pressure, Blackwood raises his thumb and licks the cream from.

"I could have you arrested," Rotheram says.

It's such an idle threat and Rotheram regrets it as soon as he hears the words leaving his mouth. Blackwood appears equally unimpressed, snorting.

"Arrested? What do you take me for, Thomas?"

"I know you . . . "

"Oh I think not, _father_."

Rotheram blanches.

"I came here tonight to see how you were, anything else is purely recreational," Blackwood says, checking his reflection in the polished brass of a vase beside them. He sounds bored. "I promise."

"If you touch him-"

Blackwood leans forward and takes hold of Rotheram's cravat, making a show of straightening it.

"If I wanted him, Thomas, do you think you could stop me?" Blackwood laughs. He steps back, raising an imaginary glass in the air. "Enjoy the rest of the night!"

Heads turn at Blackwood's loud toast. Someone nearby makes a huff of dissaproval, but it's merely the time honoured exaspertation of the old for the young. They do not see the monster in their midst the way Rotheram does. He bites his tongue and watches in resignation as Blackwood disappears into the crowd.


End file.
